


Last Virgin at Liberty High

by melanie1982



Category: My So Called Life, New Kids On The Block, Wentworth Miller - Fandom
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, becauseWentworth, becauseangst, becausehighschoolhormones, ridic, thismayfailhorribly, wishthekidsatmyschoolhadbeenthishot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A local high school burns down, forcing the students to transfer to various other schools. Liberty High receives its own influx of displaced students. How will the new kids (pun intended) fit in with Angela and the gang?</p><p>This may form as a series of drabbles, because plots are, like, hard and stuff.</p><p>The 'underage' tag is because, depending on where in the world you live, anyone under 18 could be considered jailbait. (Note: no characters in this fiction get involved with anyone outside of their age group; they're all teenagers).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Kids

Everyone talks about sex in code and jokes and slang, like it's this big, amazing thing, but, embarrassing. There's, like, lists of who's done it and who hasn't, which has been a thing for years - only, this year, there's a third list: the unknowns.

Isn't that the worst way they could possibly phrase it? 'Unknowns' makes it sound like unidentified burn victims in a morgue, or possibly hazardous substances found spilled on the highway. I would totally ignore the lists, but this year, I'm on one of them. The third list, I mean. The one with question marks.

Because of Jordan Catalano.

I mean, we set some records for making out, and sometimes there were hands in.. well, but we didn't .. I mean, we wanted to, at different times, and maybe eventually, but.. not.. Because people just assume things. I thought I'd be on the 'yes' list, because of his reputation. He's on the yes list. I'm on the maybe list. Angela Chase is a 'maybe.'

I finally read the lists because Rayanne kept going over them and over them. Somebody actually went and made actual COPIES of the lists. As in, to hand out. Well, they put them in lockers. There weren't enough copies, but Rayanne got one.

Things got weirder when one of our rival schools burned down. All these new students just, flooded the hallways. I felt like a fish already, but in, like, a pond; now it was an ocean. Too full. Too many. 

And then there was the fact that some of the new students were, like, really beautiful. I remember seeing five of them show up in a group. They didn't need to fit in, because they already fit in with each other. So they were just, you know, there, part of it, but not really part of it. Two of them had the darkest hair I'd ever seen, and the way they touched was like lovers, but, they're brothers. 

I wondered about them for hours. And then there was another guy, not with the group, who didn't have any friends. At all. He was like, not quite real, or something. Some of the kids started a rumor that he'd been in prison.

All I could think about the week they showed up is which name would go on which list.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Crossing The Jordan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan meets Jordan

It's this dumb thing. I've never been smart. I've never been funny. I get girls by being in a band and not talking too much. Girls like mystery. Or whatever.

Brain tries to help me with words, but I get along better with music. When I sing, I don't, you know, have to read it; I just sing it. It worked with Angela. 

Then a school got burned down or blown up or something and these kids took over Liberty High. Five of them have a band - total cheese, not rock. Pop. But girls like them.

They call themselves Nynuk, which is like the worst band name of all time. But they get gigs. They're playing the school dance. If I went to school dances, I would so not go. As a protest.

Angela wants to go. She likes the one they call Jordan. He's pretty, like a girl. Sings like one.

He's taking music from me. He's taking my name. And he might take my girl.

I wait, leaning against the lockers. When he stops to change books or whatever, I tell him - tell him to make sure he doesn't move her name off the unknowns list.

He just smiles and walks away.  
\------------------------------------------------------------


	3. Sizing Them Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayanne ponders some of the new meat on the market

Angela has been, like, in love with Catalano since.. well, I met her around the time it started. Not sure which came first. Maybe at the same time? That would be totally twisted, and so her.

The new guys are all good at stuff. It's like they're older, but they're not. Even the baby of the group walks like he's.. well-practiced. Normally I'd be all over that, but Angela's got this weird transferring thing from one Jordan to the new one. They're good at music. They write. They dress cool. They make the rest of the guys here look backwards.

Which means we hardly talk, unless it's about him. Or his brother. Or his friends. Or the lone wolf, the one with a name like a dead poet, or a grizzly 1840s prospector. Weedhurst? Wendall? Whatever.

I like Danny best. He seems more sure of himself. Quiet, but he can cut you down with a stare or a quick comment. He's built like a tree, and everyone knows how I like to climb things.

I almost wish I could fuck the new Jordan, just so I could tell her he was bad at it. I'm already on the yes list; what's one more? Maybe it would get her to stop dreaming of him.

I don't want her on any of the lists. I want her on a new list. The one I keep of the people I've..

I wish I had his hair.


	4. Wentwurst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's in a name?
> 
> Rickie's P.O.V

Gym class is, like, worse than shop. Okay, maybe not worse - I mean, guys in t shirts and shorts, sweating - but I mean I can't do anything right. 

Ever since all these new jocks showed up, it's gotten harder. Gym class, I mean. And.. you know.

Danny's really good at wrestling. Donnie's decent at basketball, and Jordan's good at the rope-climb and they're all BETTER than me at it, better than kids who've been here like their whole lives.

And then there's the other guy. He hasn't made friends. His parents must have been Eng Lit majors or something, because who names a kid Wentworth? I mean in this century.

He's quiet - to where you, like, stop what you're doing when he decides to speak. I've watched him, and he doesn't creep on the girls when the other guys do. Like, a gentleman. He's always taking notes, and when he runs out of paper, he writes on his arms and legs. Practically tattoos them.

So halfway through gym, the coach starts yelling at me because I dropped the ball or whatever, as if I'd do that on purpose. As if I want MORE reason for them to hate me, to see me as different. And Danny turns redder and redder, but he doesn't move, and the clock is loud all of a sudden and all I want is for the bell to ring and it to be over, but that can't happen yet, because my life. Sucks.

I hear one of the guys say a word under his breath, cursing me. New guy hears it, and it's like he snaps, but he doesn't. He's in control. 

"What did you just say?"

"Oh-ho, the ghost speaks! You got a problem, Wentwurst?"

Another Neanderthal starts in too, like, "Yeah, Wentwart, you got a problem?"

And I'm thinking please don't break his face, because he's so pretty. I'm, like, flinching already, expecting it, but there's no sound. Just breathing.

He takes a step toward the second guy, who has about a foot in height and fifty pounds of weight to his advantage. Stares him down. 

"I don't like to hear language like that."

I open my mouth to say it doesn't matter, that I'm used to it, and that words don't hurt like fists, but it's like he can hear my thoughts, and he shakes his head. 

"Nobody has the right to call you that. Don't you EVER let anyone disrespect you."

Now I'm thinking, 'Disrespect?' Like, some ghetto gangster street code thing? Which is so far from my life that it's not even a joke.

A third guy is involved now, and Danny moves to be next to ghost guy, backing him up. They've never even said hi to each other before. Soon the other guys from his crew - did I just say 'crew'? - come over, and I'm wanting to run, but totally can't look away. I can't even move.

Wentworth goes nose to nose with super-jock. "Looks like you're out-manned here. The smart thing to do would be to stand down, with dignity."

Where the hell is the coach and why isn't he still yelling at me or at them or doing whatever? The first guy to mouth off steps forward, but Danny checks him. There is now, like, a literal wall of muscle standing between me and the bullies.

The slur guy backs down, and his friends follow him. I feel my heart start beating again.

Wentworth looks at me and just gives, you know, the sweetest little smile, like we have a secret.

The five other guys walk by, clapping me on the back like I just scored in a game or whatever, and I kinda feel like I have. 

Wentworth is my hero, though, and suddenly his name isn't dorky anymore. I wondered which list it would be on. 


	5. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, the high school dance, a melting-pot of smug-steadies, lonely wallflowers, cocky stags and all the other species of the teenage jungle.

At least I got to hear him sing.

So it wasn't cool music, but they were good. I mean, they were talented. Not Catalano guitar talented, or heart-felt lyrics talented - but they were okay. Maybe if they'd come along a few years earlier, they'd be famous.

I did miss the pain of it, though, the aching. The wanting. Nynuk's songs were too catchy, too.. Sharon Cherski. I mean, even Donnie's low notes weren't, like, growl-y enough. Gravelly. Brian said Jordan Catalano's voice was 'gravelly.' Brian always had the right word for something, as long as it didn't involve, like, emotions.

Rayanne was downing punch, hoping it was spiked, but so far, not even buzzing. She was waiting for the band to take a break, mumbling something into her cup about climbing 'the tree.'

Brian had showed up as a chaperone or usher or whatever they call it. Which was weird, because he's our age, but in his head he's not. He'll probably sit at the faculty table at our school reunions, because nobody our age will be talking to him. Well, nobody he wants to see.

Wentworth was taking tickets at the door. If you wanted to leave but come back later, you had to get your hand stamped, which was stupid, because everyone knew who everyone was - only, they didn't, because of the new students.

When the band took a break, I went to find Jordan. "Which oooone?," Rayanne teased, and I told her to shut up. She gets so weird about me and guys sometimes. I wonder if, after doing it with too many people, it becomes, you know, boring. Maybe she has to live through other people to feel anything. 

I never expected to see what I saw. I didn't want to. I could've lived my whole life without seeing it.

Jordan Catalano and Jordan Knight were arguing, then fighting, and Brian was trying to break it up. Like, BRIAN Brian. Noodle-arms and curly hair bouncing up and down, pleading voice.. 

The tallest one of the group, Jon, stepped in. "Enough!" The Jordans pulled apart. "You, go cool off. And YOU - come with me."  
Jon had just told Catalano to get out, and he was. He was leaving. The other Jordan smiled at me, only it seemed.. wrong, like, I wanted a serious face, and blue eyes, and it didn't fit. I felt nothing. I went to find my Jordan.

That wasn't the weird part. The weird part was waiting for me around the corner.

Brian was crying, and Jon was trying to, console him, or placate him, or just whatever to get him to stop. Crying was so.. normal, so physical; Brian was so in his head, I didn't think he did stuff like that. Without thinking. Just feeling.

Their heads were close together, and Jon was murmuring something, and Brian sort of looked up, and then they were kissing. I felt so many things, things I couldn't unravel. I knew I'd be up all night, picking them apart. Combing through them. Weaving them together.

Was he just needing comfort? Was he really kissing back? I had to turn away. "Jordan," I thought out loud. I needed to find him.

I made my way to the door, and Wentworth stopped me. "Everything okay?" He sounded, like, genuinely concerned. Like a parent, only, cooler. 

"Yeah, I just - need some air. Actually, um, I'm trying to find my friend.."

He made a face I couldn't read. "Tall, shaggy hair parted in the middle, icy blue eyes?"

Hope bloomed in my chest. "Yeah. Have you seen him?"

Uncomfortable pause. "I think maybe you should wait inside."

Now I was making a face. "And *I* think I'll go look for him. Excuse me."

"Wait. I .. I need to stamp your hand. You know, in case you decide you want to come back in."

I hesitated. What if I didn't want to come back?

"Better to have the stamp, even if you don't use it."

This guy was seriously too good at reading people. Like he had things mapped out, always a step ahead. Or something.

I felt him imprint my hand with invisible ink, and I brushed past him. His eyes followed me until they were blocked by the closing door.

I started calling for Jordan, then decided to be stealthy. Rayanne was all over her tree; she probably hadn't gotten a stamp, and definitely wouldn't care. Another, smaller tree was hugging her from behind, the youngest guy.. I didn't need to see that. I was glad I hadn't had any punch. If any of them saw me, none of them acknowledged it.

Jordan was leaned against the wall where kids lock up their bikes. I heard him sigh, and my heart tripped over itself.

Then I saw.

Donnie had Jordan pinned up against the wall. Jordan's shirt was open, and Donnie was kissing his way down Jordan's stomach, lips moving to places I'd never dared. It hurt to look at them.

I made a sound, one of pain, then of anger. Jordan's half-lidded eyes slid in my direction, barely registering my presence. Donnie hid his face, burying it against Jordan's abs.

"Jordan? What the HELL?" 

Footsteps. Rayanne's. Her hand, resting on my shoulder. "Angela? What's goin' on?"

Jordan's hand, the back of it wiping across his lips. Erasing evidence. Wiping away guilt.

"I come to find you and give you another chance, and this is what you're - When did you - ? Why? God, WHY?!?"

Rayanne was trying to calm me down.

"No, you don't understand! He was - they were - aaaugh!"

I grabbed her, kissing her. I felt Jordan's shock, shifting to anger. Jealousy. Maybe disgust.

"Angela! What are you - this isn't you! Just, stop it!" I'd never heard Jordan yell like that. He must've really been rattled. 

I pulled away, realizing Rayanne hadn't resisted me grabbing her and kissing her. She hadn't resisted me letting go, either. "What? You think you're the only one who can be bad? You think you're the only one who can be on lists and in rumors and - "

Jordan was still being loud. "The stupid LISTS? Angela, who cares?!"

"I care! I wanted to - it doesn't matter!"

Jordan froze. "You wanted what?" 

I ran. I was glad my hand was stamped, meaning I could go back inside. 

Had Wentworth known, or suspected something? Was he trying to protect me?

I never found out.


	6. Kissing Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge, or romance?

Rayanne has it bad for Angela. I should know; I'm pretty much the expert on unrequited love for Angela Chase. I don't make Rayanne name it, and she doesn't call me out, either. It's, like, an unspoken truce.

The night of the dance, Rayanne was making out with two guys from the band. Jordan Catalano made out with a third guy from the band. And I made out with a fourth. The only one who didn't make out with anyone, as far as I know, was the other Jordan.

Rayanne got her chance to kiss Angela, but it was totally not what she would have wanted. I mean, if she made a list of ways, situations, excuses, for kissing her best friend, revenge on Jordan Catalano would so not be on the list. 

Sometimes, though, you have to take what you can get.

Angela came back into the building, stopping long enough to grab her coat. Rayanne was chasing after her, but it was like Angela didn't hear. I know how that feels, so I felt for Rayanne. To a point. Because I'm jealous, okay? 

My first instinct was to go after her, but I figured if Angela wouldn't stop for her, like, best friend, she wouldn't stop for me, either. Maybe Rayanne could shed light on whatever had just happened. 

Rayanne started crying. I didn't figure she had, you know, deep feelings; for one, she's got no shame.. but she was legitimately crying as I walked over to where she had leaned against the wall. I waited, wondering whether she'd sense me there. 

"Brian... Brian.."

I wondered if she was drunk, or stoned. She seemed so, I don't know, out of it.

"Rayanne?"

"She kissed me, Brian." I watched as Rayanne put her fingers to her lips, cringing as I imagined the places those fingers might have been. 

Then it hit me, what she'd said. "Wait, WHAT?"

"Angela. Kissed. ME. As revenge on Jordan."

"As in, which Jordan - home-grown Jordan, or imported Jordan?"

She tried to laugh, but it sounded wrong.

"Brian, she kissed me in front of Jordan Catalano. I froze; I couldn't even - I couldn't even kiss her back." The tears were overflowing now, one after the other. "She didn't feel anything for me, she just wanted to hurt him."

A broken Rayanne was an awful thing to see. I mean, you can't just, forget something like that, you know? I didn't know what to say. I wished I'd been standing there instead of Rayanne. I tried to imagine if I could've, like, been in her place; would I have kissed back? Said something? Rayanne was melting against the wall, into it. Some of her hair caught on the tape holding a poster to the wall, coming off in strands. Leaving a part of her there.

"Rayanne, look. You need to - "

"I have to go. I need to find-- "

But she didn't know what she needed to fix this. The, just, total emptiness. She just knew she wouldn't find it in that school gym.

It was a little while after that that I saw Rickie and Wentworth kiss when they thought they were alone. This is so wrong, but, I mean, you won't tell anyone - right? Right? Because I will deny everything.

So the dance was over, and we were cleaning up. I was taking the garbage to the dumpsters, and when I came back, the gym was too quiet. Then I heard this sort of, noise, a, a sound, like - like someone who's been underwater and finally comes up for air. A gasp. 

I hung back by the open doorway, and I saw Wentworth's hands all over Rickie. So, by now I'm thinking, there's something in the punch, only, I didn't drink any, and neither did Wentworth. Maybe the water? Like, bioterrorism gone awry? Where instead of dying, everybody starts going insane and making bad decisions?

Then I'm thinking, If there's a Jewish hell, I'm totally headed there for watching. What is WITH me and watching people, or accidentally seeing things I shouldn't? Does anyone ever watch ME? Does anyone even SEE me, like, whether I want them to or not? 

So they get done kissing, or just take a break, and I turn and I run. I have to get my bike, because no way am I asking my parents to come get me, but when I go toward the bike rack, there are kids making out left and right. I think I see Rayanne pinning someone to the wall, and I don't care, because it's not Angela, so it's irrelevant. For a split second, I consider trying to kiss her, to see if she tastes like Angela, to know what that's like, but she's already replaced that taste with someone else, and I feel so sick. Like I missed a chance, too. 

And I'm glad it's only Saturday, because no way am I ready to face all these people in a few hours. I need, just, another day, or several. To like, process this. 

I fall asleep licking my lips, thinking about Jon's kiss.

I think about lists, and how I'm going to be on the 'no' list for forever.


	7. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a long, strange weekend it's been...

Some people can smile and pretend that everything's okay when it's not. They can hang out with people who've hurt them, and just, lie. I'm not one of those people.

I thought maybe Jordan was.. I mean, I tried talking to him about it once, when Shane kept, like, touching him too much: a hand on the small of his back, a slap on the ass, a brush of the hand - but Jordan wouldn't let me go there. He just shook it off, and I felt stupid, guilty, like I'd, you know, wounded him. But I watched him. I watched the way his body would turn toward a certain guy, or how he'd shift and stand straighter or walk taller around one or two of the jocks. Rickie thinks Jordan could make big money as a rent boy, but it's so not funny. That's just the most tragic thing to say, to even think that. If he looks at boys the same way I do, it's.. it's okay. It's just Jordan. That makes it okay. I just feel like, I should know. You know?

I hadn't talked to him since the fight. I hadn't talked to Rayanne, either, and it was killing me, but I was so.. I didn't know. I felt too much, and trying to focus on just one feeling was impossible. They all ran together, like some ugly, messed-up tie-dye, bleeding into something new. Something without a name. How can you explain something without words, without a name for it?

On Sunday, Mom knew something was wrong because I agreed to be seen in public with her. We went grocery shopping, and I ran into the Knight brothers. Like, I actually rammed their cart with mine. They had a bunch of junk food and soda and just general garbage, and Mom had tofu and fat-free salad dressing and whole-grain bread, and it was super-tense for a minute. Of course, mom had chosen the moment before the wreck to just disappear somewhere. 

Jon didn't look away, but Jordan looked down, studying the items in the cart. Like he felt bad for me, or something.

"I thought you couldn't go anywhere without your friends. Are the other three, like, dead somewhere? Or dying?" I was angry, for myself, and for Rayanne. Even if she hated me. I wondered if she'd 'climbed' Danny and Joey. 

Like a nightmare, Donnie came around the corner, a dozen eggs in hand. I got a twinge of satisfaction as he dropped them; the sick, crunch-splat as they hit the floor. Like a breaking heart. Like the mess my life had become.

"Oh. Hey. Angie, right?"

"Angela."

"Look, what you saw.. If you and that guy are going to have a future together, you're gonna have to deal. He's not who you think he is. He's.. He likes guys. He really loves girls, but, he's not exclusively - "

"He has a name. His name is Jordan. And I can't believe I actually, sort of, liked any of you. You don't know him; you've been here for a week, and you've already turned everything inside out. Just - leave me alone!"

I was totally walking away, pretending I needed something in the next aisle. Which happened to be the cleaning supplies. Which give me migraines. But I needed to get out of sight, like, right then.

"Angela. He's not who you think he is. Neither are you. Think about it."

I should've kept walking. I should've flipped him off. Instead, I just turned around, in slow motion, like something in a movie. A horror movie, where you find out that the monster's been in your house all the time, after the cops and everyone who could help you has already left.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

The three guys were looking at me now. Other people were staring, trying not to, but listening. Like, straining to hear. I saw Sharon's mom, and I died a little. Now Sharon would hear about it all.

"I think you know. Things happened that night, things that can't un-happen. Not just with him."

My face was about to match my hair. Like, how fucking dare he? I couldn't speak; I just, wavered for a second, then turned, walking away. I needed air. I needed.. 

I didn't even know. Until Monday.

Jordan found me first. I didn't have to chase him down, and that just, it terrified me. He knew which class I'd be headed to, or maybe he just did a lap of the school until he found me. I ditched trig. To talk.

I wanted him to tell me it was some sick joke, or some kind of test, or rehearsing for a play. I knew he wouldn't. I wanted him to try to kiss me, even though I wasn't in the mood to kiss back. Just, to know he still wanted me. At all.

The bleachers were ours. I vaguely remembered we had a test, an actual one, but it was too late. Jordan was shrinking into his coat, like he wished he could disappear. I wondered about him, like, did he have pictures of himself as a kid? Because he didn't look like a man right then; he looked like a scared boy.

"Angela. About Saturday. I.. You were trying to see that other Jordan. And it's like, whatever, you're young, you're inexperienced, go do your thing, but - I do my thing, too."

He tried to find words, and I could feel the pain in him, the struggle. He needed to know that, no matter what happened with 'us,' I was okay with 'him.' Sometimes the most basic need in the world is just to be, like, listened to. To be heard. So he talked, and I listened. When he stopped, I put my hand on his.

"Jordan, whoever you are - it's okay. I've read about - " but I didn't know how to phrase it. I didn't want to label him, but I had to have a frame of reference. "I know some guys date men and women. It's, really, it's fine. Just - I need to know. And it needs to be one person at a time."

He looked right at me for a long time. "It's okay."

I squeezed his hand, feeling it come back to life. Like he'd been frozen. "It's okay."

"What about you?"

I wasn't ready for that talk. I wasn't, but I knew it would happen anyway.

"Rayanne."

"Yeah. She's wanted that for a long time. I mean, you noticed, right? You ever thought about it, about you and her?"

A lot of guys would've sounded, like, so gross even asking me that. Jordan wasn't leering, wasn't laughing. He was talking about it like it was normal.

Which made it okay to think about.

"There's always this.. thing there. Energy. Tension. But I haven't.. You don't feel it with her?"

He smiled. Just a little. "I feel it when I'm standing with both of you. I feel it when I see her watching you. But, no, I don't feel sparks with Rayanne. She's just.. Rayanne."

I had been telling myself for months that the buzzing, breathless feeling was just Rayanne, herself. It wasn't Rayanne plus Angela.

"People are chemicals. When any two of them meet, a reaction occurs, and both are changed."

It was one of the deepest things he'd ever said. I almost asked him who he stole it from, but I caught myself. 

"So, what - if we mix, we might, like, explode?"

Jordan put his other hand on top of mine. "You need to figure that out."

Liberty High needed a fourth list: the seriously confused.


	8. Still Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan Catalano p.o.v
> 
> Rayanne p.o.v
> 
> Brian p.o.v

I know what people say about guys who like other guys. I used to use those words, but not anymore. Not since Tino.

It was only one time, and he still won't talk about it. It didn't go very far, but, it was far enough. Something clicked, just, in me, and I knew. I knew I wanted. But I wanted friendship more. I wanted music more. So I dropped it.

It really started before that. It's never been about just sex for me. I've talked to girls who've worked the street; they all say it started out of loneliness, or being homeless, or being cold. I don't judge them. I know about the emptiness, the hunger, the pain. Sometimes you just need to not be alone. Girls who put out to just anyone, they don't think of it as selling themselves. It is - or, it's trading. Trading sex for company, for a place to stay, for dinner and a movie. Trading sex for warmth. Sex is what I'm good at. It's been my way of getting what I really need. When I sleep with a girl, I know how she feels. It's trading pain.

You try to lose yourself in someone else for a minute, an hour, a day. Being wanted is the only thing that makes you feel alive, that keeps the shadows away for a while. It's like you borrow their sunshine, their life. A guy, a girl, someone undefined - doesn't matter. Just to feel. Just to breathe their air. That's all.

I told Angela about the guy thing. She seemed.. okay.

Next I'll have to tell her about the 'more than one at a time' thing. Polymorphous, or whatever. Because that's me. Who I am. People think I can't love, but I can. I can love too many, too much. I can't make her okay with it, but maybe, at least, she'll understand.

I need her. And she needs Rayanne.  
\----------------------------------

I knew she'd talk to Jordan first. I've, like, accepted that Angela is never going to look at me the way she looks at him. I've thought about cutting my hair, dressing like a guy, to see if she acted differently around me. To see if she'd like me. I think I could be a boy; I've known enough, studied them enough. 

I'm not gay. I just.. I can't get off. With guys. Like, ever. It's like something's missing. I've been with the best, but I still can't cum. Unless I'm alone. So it's this totally warped thing where I keep trying to find the magic key in this guy or the next guy or the next guy. They all cum. And they all leave. I mean I don't like other girls. I'm just, 'Angela-gay.' Or bi. I don't know, and the only person who can help me figure it out hadn't talked to me since she kissed me. I mean, Sharon's got an amazing rack for someone still in high school, but you'd probably die of, like, sugar shock if you tapped that. Angela was 'it' for me. 

She didn't mean to hurt me. She was hurting, and it just.. She was freaking out. The guy you've been obsessing over and who you almost slept with is kissing some guy, what do you DO? You grab the nearest person and lay it on 'em. Too bad it wasn't Brian. Poor guy. Prob'ly would've creamed his jockeys. 

So after lunch she found me and we actually talked. I know she kept expecting me to make a joke, to say something inappropriate or random and be Rayanne, but I didn't. Not once.

She told me about Jordan, about their talk. I was mildly surprised, but not shocked. Part of me wished he'd find a guy and leave her alone, but I was her friend, and I wanted her to be happy.

"I can't believe I kissed you." She kept going back to that, and finally I snapped.

"What does that even mean? Like, I'm repulsive or diseased or something?"

"No! God. No, I meant that - to do that without even asking you. Without even knowing if you'd freak out. No warning."

I thought about it for a minute. "Was it terrible?"

She blushed. "I.. I wasn't thinking, Rayanne. I think maybe the punch was - "

"It wasn't. I chugged that stuff like a fish, and nothing. Don't you dare blame this on booze; we were both sober."

Angela had been looking for a loophole. For herself, and for Jordan. I couldn't give her that.

"It was so quick, I didn't have time to like it or not like it."

"Well, why did you stop? Because you wanted to, or because he was yelling?"

That stopped her cold. "I.. Because he was yelling."

"So if Jordan Catalano hadn't yelled at you, you would've kept kissing me?"

"Rayanne.."

"It's yes or no."

"I don't.. I don't know."

The way she licked her lips, I knew. I knew she was remembering. I inched closer, and she was looking at me, right in the eye. Neither one of us blinked.

She laughed, nervous. 

"No one's yelling now."

I thought of her mom's face, a mixture of concern and 'I knew it.' I thought of Brian, how seeing this would've made him, like, one part horny and two parts jealous. Then her lips were on mine, and all I could think was one word, over and over:

Home.

\----------------------------

I knew better than to take study hall outside. I mean, the bleachers. They're in the direct line of sight of where I sit. Now I had that image in my head, Angela and Rayanne.. Like, oh my fucking GOD really? Jordan wouldn't have been bad enough? 

I was trying to finish homework, because, you know, I have such a full social calendar, I couldn't wait and do it when I got home. Home meant my room, and my room meant my bed, and my bed meant thinking of who I was and who I wanted there with me. It had always been Angela, but now I wasn't sure anymore. Now I had this mental cache of images, of Rickie groping Wentworth, and Donnie kissing Catalano, and Jon Knight kissing me.. When had Liberty High become a porn set? 

Now there was Angela and Rayanne, and I had to, like, sit up and put my book in my lap, because lying on the ground on my stomach was no longer a good idea. 

They weren't just kissing in an 'I'm sorry' way. It was more like, 'I need your tongue like I need air.' The way nobody would ever kiss me. Because I'm not enough, or I'm too much. It's who I am. 

So the bell rings and I don't even hear it, and I don't hear someone come up behind me. A hand touches my shoulder, and I jump, so hard that my book flips off my lap, and now the guy standing over me is looking down, seeing the bulge in my khakis, trying not to smile.

"You always get a hahd-on from homework?"

I don't even know anything about this guy, where he's from, but it's obvious he didn't grow up here. His accent does things to me, things I can't even say.

"Uh, I.. um.."

He sees where I'm casting nervous glances, and the smile breaks out in force. "Ahhh, so THAT'S what you were studying."

"It's not like.. I didn't mean.. I don't always.. I'm just, a little confused right now."

He sits down. Too close. Knees touching. "About what?"

The joking, mocking guy is gone. This is someone.. sensitive. I feel like trusting him, and that's so insane, but this guy clearly doesn't know me and hasn't heard or listened to the majority of people here saying I'm a leper, so I just go with it.

"I was actually thinking about.. someone else. I mean, Angela's pretty, but I was focused on the kissing. I'm not very.."

"Someone else?"

My brain takes a second to override annoyance at the interruption. It takes another to realize he's zeroed in on the 'someone else' part, rather than the 'I'm not very' part.

"Yeah. I was thinking about Saturday night. Your friend, Donnie. With, like, one of the most desirable guys at Liberty High."

The look on his face was like I'd just kicked his puppy, but then it flickered and was gone, like changing the channel. "What about him?"

"Just, I'd never seen two guys.. doing that. It was.. And JORDAN. I had no idea."

Confusion, then, "Right. The Catalano guy. He's cute - if you like that bad-boy-going-nowhere-fast type. Not me."

So now I'm looking at him like, What? Like, I want to know, but I don't. But it seems important. 

"I like the shy, quiet," - and here he reaches over and picks up my book, handing it to me - "bookish type." Jon's hand is touching mine, barely, and I hold my breath. He's kind of.. shaking. Which makes the book shake. Which makes me grip it tighter, but he hasn't let go.

"Jon.. This isn't how things were supposed to go. I don't know what to do, what to think of the stuff going on in my so-called life."

He let go, and I put the book down. I suddenly didn't care that I was hard, or that he could see. I didn't.

I don't know how long Angela and Rayanne stayed under the bleachers. I do know I missed my next class, leaned against the wall of the boiler room. I'd have to remember to thank her for telling me about it.


	9. Like, Love, or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks later
> 
> Sharon's p.o.v

*Sharon spills to her diary*

So my friends have officially gone insane.

They're not perfect friends, but other than my sometimes-boyfriend, they're what I've got. Angela is back with Jordan, only.. She's with Rayanne, too. She swears he's totally okay with it, and that they don't all, you know.. But I'm not so sure. All her mom said was, "Well, that's one way to reduce the risk of pregnancy." I mean, she gave them a talk about safe sex (could you DIE?) and how some people won't understand and might turn, you know, psycho about it, but she didn't freak out. Which my mom TOTALLY would have done. Then there's the fact that Donnie's been hanging out with them all more - like some weird couples date, only, couple means 'two.' I can't.. I can't think about it without feeling dizzy.

Rickie and that Wentworth guy are so lovey, it's sick. If I ever act like that, I hope someone puts a pillow over my face. At least nobody picks on Rickie anymore, not with Wentworth and 'Nynuk' around.

Brian Krakow is completely gone for that Jon guy. I'm used to seeing Brian wanting someone, but this is, just, not normal for it to be mutual. I mean, the Delia thing was weird enough. I'm not, you know, prejudiced against.. whatever they are, but, just, it's a big change.

The other new guys are dating their way through everyone worth looking at. Like, guys AND girls. I mean, the third list is going to be practically non-existent by this time next year.

I don't know how to deal with that. Like, they make me feel so.. boring. Vanilla. Plain. Maybe I could.. I mean, I could be bad, right? I could date a girl, or, two people, or..

I feel like Jane Goodall, but instead of studying apes in the jungle, it's virgins in high school. I feel like they're going extinct.

The weird thing is how we're all connected through an ex, or a current, or a friend.. I feel like they're all gonna, just, get together in a free-for-all, with friends and lovers and people watching and - 

I'm gonna call around, see what everyone's doing this weekend. Maybe we'll figure it all out so we can invite the last virgin at Liberty High.


End file.
